Dungbombs
by Wolf Flower
Summary: The summer before going to Hogwarts, the twins pull an innocent prank that turns into painful foreshadowing. Grab your tissues; you have been warned by this rubbish summary. Oneshot.


"Come back here you little hellions!"

Two identical young boys ran outside the now-stinking Burrow, giggling and laughing to no end. They stopped at the edge of the field as their flustered mother burst through the doorway.

"You-!" Mrs Weasley steamed, "Come here!"

Fred and George looked at each other and grinned.

"Why should we?" said George.

"It's more fun out here-and it doesn't smell!" said Fred.

It was 's turn to appear, right behind Molly, "You two set off the dungbombs in the living room, and you are both to come here and clean it up!"

"This instant!" Mrs. Weasley added, pointing furiously at the ground for emphasis.

"How are you so sure it was us, mum?" Fred asked as innocently as he possibly could, which wasn't very innocent at all.

"Honestly, you're always pinning these things on us!" said George.

"That's because it always IS you!" a new voice added. The twins looked up and saw their older brothers hanging out of various upstairs windows. It was Charlie who had spoken.

Percy looked down at them disdainfully, "Do you honestly believe that any one of us would pull such an immature prank?"

Bill glanced at said brother and rolled his eyes before giving the twins a big grin.

Mrs. Weasley placed her hands on her hips and looked at the twins pointedly.

George put his hands in the air in protest, "Well how do you know it wasn't Ron or Ginny?"

At that moment, a small boy and girl emerged from behind Molly and Arthur. "Mummy," said Ron, holding his nose, "It smells funny." Ginny nodded vigorously, also holding her nose.

Another meaningful look at the twins. Each glanced at the other and grinned.

"Fine, we'll come clean it up..." Fred began.

The family braced themselves and waited; Fred and George _never_ agreed to anything their mother asked.

"If you can catch us!" George finished, and both boys took off running into the field.

In response, Arthur merely sighed, "It's never easy with those boys, is it?" He placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, "No point in going after them, Molly; we may as well start cleaning up while we wait for them to come home."

Reluctantly, she nodded and followed Arthur inside.

xxxXXXxxx

They hadn't run very far when they stopped.

"Maybe we should run in different directions, that way it'll be harder for them to catch us!" suggested Fred.

"_If _they catch us," corrected George.

They smiled impishly and each set off on their own.

George didn't know how long he had run or how far, he only knew that he was out of energy and breath and that the ground looked like a nice place to lay down. He collapsed and watched the clouds go by for a few minutes, noticing that it was getting rather dark.

"Mum'll have our heads if we're not home soon," he murmured.

Getting up, he set out to find his brother.

After much walking and calling his name, though, there was still no sign of Fred. George was beginning to worry, something he never did.

"Freddie?" he yelled. "C'mon! Mum'll have us cleaning the house without magic for a week if we're not back soon!"

Silence.

"Freddie!" He picked up his pace, running in the direction he thought his brother had gone.

"Fred!"

As he turned and pushed away some tall grass, relief briefly filled George. It was quickly replaced by fear when he saw his brother lying face down on the ground, unmoving. He rushed to him and turned him over so he was on his back. There was a small trickle of blood on his forehead.

"Fred?" he shook his brother. Nothing.

"Freddie c'mon, this isn't funny." He smiled half-heartedly. Still nothing.

He shook him harder and panic filled him, "Freddie!"

Just as he feared the worst, a small moan escaped his twin's lips. George let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Fred slowly opened his eyes and saw his panicked brother, "You all right there, Georgie?" he whispered.

"O-of course I'm all right! I was just..." he trailed off.

Fred slowly sat up, gingerly touching the cut, "I'm all right Georgie. I just tripped is all."

George didn't respond, and looked away.

Fred became more concerned, "Hey, you didn't think that I was-"

Suddenly, George enveloped his brother in a hug. "You're not allowed to leave, Freddie," he whispered.

Fred was surprised at first, but then, understanding, returned the hug. "You're not allowed to leave either, Georgie," he murmured.

After a few moments, Fred gave a small smile, "Besides, we're going to open our own joke shop, right? Who's going to help us if we don't do it together?"

George chuckled at this and they pulled away from their hug. "I dunno, Ron maybe?"

They both laughed at this, becoming young and innocent boys once again. Well. Almost innocent.

Once they were finished, Fred tried to stand but winced and lowered himself again.

"Georgie, could you give me a hand? I think I sprained my ankle," he said.

George nodded and helped his twin up, draping Fred's arm over his shoulder. Once he was settled, they slowly made their way through the field towards home. They were silent for a while until:

"You realize mum's gonna kill us when we get back."

And their laughter filled the evening air and gave promise of only the joy that was to come.


End file.
